Sweet Together
by blissful-sunrise
Summary: My collection of drabbles for Mendy Week
1. Bonus Day One: Morning Routine

A/N: I've been so excited about Mendy Week! Pls go check out my tumblr for an extra drawing for this prompt! You can copy-paste the link from my fanfiction profile!

* * *

He used to hate waking up in the morning. Key words: _Used to._

But once they started living together, he found a reason to drag his butt out of bed every morning.

And it's not because the first thing he sees in the morning now is her. Well, okay, that _is_ why he loves mornings now. But more _specifically,_ what gets him every morning is seeing her in her choice of night attire. Because even though she hasn't been a child for years now, she hasn't grown that much in height. But still, she insists on wearing his old, ratty clothes to bed every night, and he would never think of objecting.

Because _damn it_ if seeing her tiny frame drowning under the weight of his oversized t-shirts isn't the most adorable thing ever.

And don't even _mention_ to him the sight of her in his boxers.


	2. Day One: Sweet

"You know," she says one day, snuggled up against his shoulder. "You remind me of coffee cake."

He's caught in surprise and looks at her in confusion. "What makes you say that?"

"Well." She yawns lazily, curling up along his side, hugging his arm. "At first glance, you don't look like much. You seem somewhat monotone, without a large palette of color."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"And you're kind of bitter, too," she continues, making a face. "If I were to have just met you, I would have mistaken you for someone stern, and a little bit grumpy, too."

Mest can feel his eyebrow twitching a bit in irritation. He didn't come here to have his girlfriend insult him while cuddling with him. _Especially_ while cuddling with him.

"But…" She looks up at him, the corners of her big, brown eyes crinkling with a hint of a smile. "Under all that plainness, all that bitterness…you hide an underlying sweetness." She leans up to lay a peck on his cheek. "And that's what everyone loves best about coffee cake."


	3. Day Two: First Impressions

His first impression? Hmm…his first impression. How does one concisely _explain_ his first impression of her? Well, okay, if he tells you his first impression, you have to promise not to tell, okay? She'll be upset with him and probably won't talk to him until Monday. It's Tuesday.

Please be considerate and don't tell her. Please.

Okay, his first impression of her. Well, it was kind of along the lines of this:

Well, this girl seems like the youngest member here, and by the looks of everything and her reaction to the chaos that is this guild, she seems easily intimidated. Since she's young, she's more susceptible to my magic and will be the least able to recognize that I was never a part of this guild in the first place. And since she's easily intimidated, if worst comes to worst, I can just scare her into working with me.

There. There, that was his first impression of her. Please don't tell Wendy. He's managed to get by all these years with her because he's convinced her that he always knew she was strong and powerful. Clearly, that was not the case, and clearly, you should not, under _any_ circumstances, tell her the truth.

* * *

What? Her first impression? Gee, how is she going to say this? Okay, if she tells you, you have to _promise_ not to tell Mest. No, you have to _pinky_ promise. Got it? Because if not, he's going to be upset and probably won't even _look_ at her until Monday. It's Tuesday.

Please be kind and don't tell him. This is a secret, okay?

Well, okay. If you promise - _pinky_ promise - not to tell, then this was what her first impression was:

What? Is this man real? Am I dreaming? Is he trying to eat _snow?_

Okay, now that you know this terrible secret, you can't tell. She's gotten by all these years by telling him that she thought he was cool and handsome. She lied. That was not her first impression. That was her fourth. Clearly, she's a liar, and clearly, you should not, under _any_ circumstances, tell Mest the truth.


	4. Day Three: Pining

**A/N: So this is a kindergarten Mendy AU. If you enjoyed the story so far, feel free to leave a review c:**

* * *

It's her first day at kindergarten, and she's nervous. She's a tiny ball of fear, to be precise.

"Okay, everyone." The big lady says, gently pushing her forward into the crowd of curious eyes. "We have a new student." The big lady looks down at her and smiles, patting her head. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Uh…uhm…" She's shaking from head to toe, and she's sure that she might pee herself in fright. "M-My name is…" She squeaks, wishing her mommy hadn't dropped her off at this terrible place. _It's fun,_ her mommy had said. _You'll love it,_ her mommy had said.

Well, so far, she's neither having fun nor loving it. She grips the hand of the big lady harder. "M-My name is…" she tries again. "…is W-W-Wendy Mar-Marvell."

…She said it! She did it! If she weren't shaking, she would be jumping in joy right-

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

-now…

The big lady gives a weak smile. "I didn't quite catch that."

She squeaks again. And this time, she _does_ pee her pants.

And that is the story of how a crying Wendy Marvell was introduced to her class on her first day of kindergarten.

* * *

"You know that new girl?" His friend asks, piling colorful blocks atop one another.

"You mean Pee-Pee Pants?" Another one of his friends snickers.

"You mean Pee McGee," the first friend matter-of-factedly says, giggling a little as he purposely topples his tiny tower.

Yesterday, Mest had joined them, adding to her multiple pee-pee titles. But that was yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that…

No, the _point is,_ it's her fifth day here and poor Pee McGee still hasn't made any friends. During playtime, while everyone else goes and plays tag, she stays tucked away in a corner by herself. And it's not like anyone puts any effort in asking her to join in. To make matters worse, during naptime he can hear stifled sniffling echoing around the room. He hasn't been able to nap well for five straight days and he's a bit cranky… _No._ _The_ _**point** is_ , he feels bad and he doesn't want this to go on anymore.

"Pee-Wee!"

"Pee-Sea!"

"Pee-"

"Stop!" he yells out without even thinking. "Stop being mean to her!" He glowers at his friends, who wilt under his intense glare. "Everyone pees, so we're all Pee-Pee Pants!" he continues. (One day, he'll look back at this time and realize he could've just stopped at 'Stop being mean to her.') "It only happened once for her! And guess what? I've peed my pants here, too! Twice!"

Everyone stares at him in horror. Even the teachers. But Mest is still a five year old child, and has neither sense of dignity nor embarrassment.

"I-I…" One of his friends suddenly raises a shaky hand. "I've peed my pants too."

"M-Me too."

Someone starts crying. Had Mest been near them, he would have heard a muffled, "I just peed my pants."

Mest gives himself a satisfied and metaphorical pat-on-the-back. He looks around at all the other kids admitting their peeing sins. Off in the corner, he sees Wendy Marvell, who gives him a shy smile.

And that is the story of how a too proud Mest Gryder fell in love with a happy Wendy Marvell on her fifth day of kindergarten.

* * *

"Do you want to play with us?" Two girls have flocked to Wendy, locking their small arms in with hers.

"U-Uh…" She flushes, overwhelmed. It's only her seventh day here, but she's suddenly popular now, with all the other children forgiving her for her first-day-blunder. "Can I really?"

One of the girls laughs. "Of course you can!" Together, the two girls pull Wendy in the direction of the swings. They jump onto the swings, giggling.

Off in the distance, however, Mest stands watching under a pine tree. Twiddling his thumbs nervously, he wonders what the best way to word his question would be. He could go the arrogant approach, stomping into her general direction, assuming a heroic pose, and declaring himself her savior and demanding her play with him. Or, he could go the normal way, and just nicely ask her to play with him like a normal kid…

 _Naaaaaah._

But…he also isn't that fond of the idea of declaring himself her savior. He might prematurely die of embarrassment (yes, he didn't have a sense of embarrassment two days ago, but he didn't _like_ anyone two days ago). So what should he do?

Something whacks him on the head.

"Ow!" He sniffles back his tears. What was that?

Looking down at the ground, a slow smile creeps up his face.

And that is the story of how a smitten Mest Gryder concocted his terrible idea on the oblivious Wendy's seventh day of kindergarten.

* * *

"Wheeeee!" She giggles, swinging her legs in the hair, using her momentum to go up higher and higher on the swings. Her mommy had been right, kindergarten _was_ fun. And she didn't mind saying that out loud. "This is so fun!" she squeals. "Wheeeee _eeee **eeEEEEE**_!" She squeals again, but this time, not in delight. She looks around confused, noting a dull pain on the back of her head.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she shrugs it off, thinking it a part of her overactive imagination. She goes back to swinging when-

Something _definitely_ just hit the back of her head. She abruptly stops swinging.

And that is the story of how Wendy Marvell started crying again on her seventh day of kindergarten, two small pinecones at her feet. Consequently, this is also the story of how a horrified Mest Gryder, one pinecone in hand, realized that his terrible idea of gaining her attention by throwing pinecones at the back of her head was…yeah…a _pretty_ terrible idea.

* * *

"Say you're sorry," the big lady continues to admonish Mest, who's already made it clear that he's very sorry. Even so, he doesn't hesitate to tell Wendy for the seventy-third time that he's very, _very_ sorry.

But honestly, Wendy had stopped listening to both of them after the twenty-seventh sorry. Or somewhere near that number. She can't count yet.

"Okay." The big lady finally relents, noticing that the two had grown restless. Wendy was still pouting, arms crossed, but the kindergarten teacher guessed there was nothing to be done about that. "You two can go back to playing now." She sighs. "But you!" She points a stern finger at Mest. "If I ever see you with a pinecone again, you will be getting a timeout, mister!"

Mest nods without hesitation, eyes widening in fear. No. Not the _timeout._ He gulps.

"Good." The teacher leaves, satisfied with her means of punishment.

Mest moves as if to go back to the playground, but then notices Wendy, still pouting, curled up into a ball, drawing circles in the sand. Giving one last glance at the playground and his friends, Mest totters close to the girl. "Uhm…" He bites his lip. "I know I already said this, but I'm sorry."

She turns away from him.

"Wendy-"

She covers her ears.

Discouraged by her behavior, he begins to nervously brush himself off, tugging pine needles out the knits of his sweater.

Pine needles…

He grins. He has an idea, and this time, it's _not_ terrible. He thinks.

Tip-toeing up to her, he takes a pine needle and, ever so slowly, starts tickling her chin.

It starts with a small giggle. Then two. Then it escalates into a full blown laugh.

She's smiling again, and that fact makes his smile grow wider.

"I'm really sorry about what I did," he says as her chortles finally begin to subside. "But will you be my friend?"

She smiles at him and sneezes in response.

And that is the story of how a happy Mest Gryder finally got an equally happy Wendy Marvell to be his friend on her seventh day of kindergarten. There will be a story later on when the two are late into their twenties, happily married with kindergartners of their own, that an incredulous Mest Gryder will learn that his lovely Wendy Marvell is actually allergic to all things pine.


	5. Day Four: Gift

Today's a special day. A _very_ special day. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the skill to show how special it is to her.

"Uh…" She glances at the blaring screen again, squinting to read the small words on the computer. Maybe she should've pulled up a site with visual instructions instead… "Okay, so you fold this over here, and then fold over here, too? No, wait…this doesn't look right." She looks down at the jumbled mess in her hands and then pouts at her 'handiwork.'

In all fairness, no one had ever taught her how to wrap gifts before. On the other hand…wrapping gifts sounds like a _basic_ skill _._

 _This,_ she muses, _must be why she's called Wendy Marvell. Because shemarvels_ _at her own ineptitude._

Ha. Ha ha. Ha…

First, she had struggled with figuring out the perfect gift for him. After frantic running around stores and miscellaneous stationary stores, she had finally decided on knitting him a scarf, since the date would be approaching winter.

There had been only one flaw in her reasoning, however: she didn't know the first thing about knitting. Correction _,_ she _still_ doesn't.

Nevertheless, after two months of agonizing labor and maybe a few held-back tears, she had finally managed to create something remotely scarf-like. At the very least, it was long enough to loop around the neck. Five and a half times. Oops?

Well, after finishing, she had had to raise the question: Great, I finished, but how do I _wrap it up?_

As soon as she had had that thought, she had called up her friend Charle. However, as soon as she had asked Charle how to wrap up a scarf, she had heard a soft "Really?!" and then the connection was lost. Charle had hung up on her. Rude.

After that failed phonecall, a distraught Wendy had brought the scarf to her neighbor, and she had asked the lady how to wrap a scarf. Her kind neighbor had then begun demonstrating several different ways on how to wrap a scarf around the neck, to which Wendy had responded, "No, no, no. I meant how do you wrap _up_ a scarf? As in a gift?"

And then her normally kind, patient neighbor had given her the most incredulous look and, eyeing her a bit, had said, "Honey, you don't _wrap up_ a scarf if you're sending it as a gift." Then, her neighbor had shut the door in her face.

Poor Wendy was confused. Was there some kind of stigma against wrapping up scarves? Well, if there was, then there was only one thing she could do: turn to the internet for advice.

However, when she typed in her request - _How do you wrap up a scarf_ \- she had found very undesirable results on how to wrap a scarf around the neck, not what she wanted, until she found one site claiming to know. Unfortunately, the site was riddled with terrible grammar and spelling mistakes…along with an overuse of emoticons. But, it was something. And something is better than nothing. Maybe.

Although after forty minutes of failed wrapping, metaphorical tears, and wasted paper, Wendy has somehow managed to undo the knitting in the _middle_ of the scarf. The poor girl sighs. The scarf hadn't been very pretty, but it had been _something._ But now that it's ruined, she'll have to scrap the scarf.

Wait.

Scrap.

Scrap?

Wendy flings the scarf into the trash. She has a _better_ idea.

* * *

After fifteen straight hours, Wendy is beginning to question what a _better_ idea even meant to begin with. Sure, it looks _prettier_ than her scarf, but at least knitting was a repetitive labor. _This_ took far more concentration and effort to do _one_ thing.

Wendy sighs. At least she only needs an estimated five more minutes until her scrapbook will be done. But that raises the question…how does one wrap up a scrapbook?

It seems the poor dear is back to square one.

* * *

Well, thirty minutes later, it seems that finding results for _how to wrap up a scrapbook_ is far easier than finding result for _how to wrap up a scarf (like a gift)._

Unfortunately, Wendy still has no idea how to wrap things. Even after finding a site with pictures.

Wendy weeps a bit at her utter incompetence.

After giving it a go one more time and wasting her fourth roll of wrapping paper, Wendy decides, _you know what? Screw this._

* * *

"What's this?" Mest blinks, looking at the crude… _whatever it is_ in his hands.

"Y-you don't like it?" Wendy has to bite back tears. Which probably wasn't the best thing to do because she has sharp teeth and now her lips are bleeding and she wants to cry harder.

Mest's eyes widen. His girlfriend is crying. What should he do? What should he _do?_ "No, no, Wendy. Don't misunderstand. I'm sure I'll love it. D-don't cry. I just don't know what it is. Please don't cry Wendy!"

"I-I…" Wendy sniffles. "I made a scrapbook of all our memories together…b-but I didn't know how to wrap it up…I mean…I tried to wrap it, but I couldn't and I-I put it…in a paper bag in the end. I'm s-sorry, I know it's ugly. I r-really wanted to make something special for our anniversary."

What?

Did she just say-?

 _Shit._

"Do you hate it?" she asks.

He vigorously shakes his head. "No, of course not!"

And then, she does exactly what he had dreaded the moment she had mentioned their anniversary. Eyes turning upward, the beautiful orbs glistening from her previous tears, a slight pout visible on her lips, she gives a look that just screams, _did you get me anything?_

To answer that, no, he _hadn't_ gotten her anything.

Why?

Because he had _forgotten,_ like the shitty boyfriend he is.

He looks at her. She looks at him. He blinks awkwardly. She blinks expectantly.

Well, there's no way to escape this. Unless… _unless_ he can make her forget that he forgot. _Oh…_

Cupping her cheeks, he quickly leans in, embracing her lips with his. He licks her lips, gently probes the inside of her mouth with his tongue. She runs her hands through his hair and he moves to wrap his arms around her waist.

He kisses her like his life depends on it. Because it probably does: it's their one year anniversary after all. If she knew he hadn't known, he would be probably dead. _Very_ probably dead.

After what felt like hours, their mouths part, a trail of saliva connecting their lips. "Happy anniversary." He smiles.

The next day, Mest gets started knitting up a scarf for her.


	6. Day 5: Gradually

A/N: This _was_ going to have something to do with the prompt, I think, but then it just flew off on its own. So I guess you can say I took a ton of liberties with this prompt. Anyway, this is a Modern!AU in which Wendy needs a tutor.

* * *

She's failing her math class. Gradually. Eventually.

 _Okay, so she has a B in the class but who knows when that'll turn into a F._

Well she's done what any reasonable, _normal_ person getting a B in a class would do: get a tutor.

That _is_ what normal people do, right? Right? Actually, she doesn't know, because she's never done so poorly before. But she's going to get a tutor _anyway._

So now she's sitting in some obscure corner of her local library, waiting for her tutor to come and _tutor_ her. Except maybe he won't, apparently; who knows. Wendy pouts a little, glancing once more at the ticking clock plastered to the wall directly opposite her. In exactly two minutes and forty-three seconds, her tutor will be late. She pouts even more. Just as she would expect an A in all her classes, she would also expect some _punctuality_ in others.

 _He's going to be late in exactly one minute and twenty-seven seconds,_ she notes. _If he doesn't get here in time, I might have to switch tutors._

She begins to tap her fingers, twirling her pencil around her fingertips. _Only fifty-two more seconds._ She flips through her textbook and then frowns because everything looks hard. _Thirty-six seconds._ She taps her feet now, then promptly gets shushed by someone. _Seventeen seconds._ She looks around. Could that guy with the pink hair be her tutor? Wait, that's her cousin Natsu! …Which means he definitely can't be her tutor. Well, what about that guy with the long black hair? He looks…intimidating. Probably not, then. What about that girl with the blue hair sitting next to him? She looks smart, maybe _she's_ her tutor… _nah._

At this point, Wendy doesn't even try to conceal her irritation anymore. She looks at the clock, mentally beginning the countdown. _Five…four…three…two…_

"Wendy Marvell?"

She looks up. Straight up into probably the most handsome guy she's ever seen. Chiseled features, unkempt black hair, beautiful green eyes, and what seems to be some _significant_ muscle mass under his tight shirt. Mouth agape, she drops her pencil. "…One."

"What?" He looks at her, confused. "Sorry, I didn't catch that. Are you _not_ Wendy Marvell?" He laughs, awkwardly ruffling his hair.

Wendy squeaks, trying to calm her beating heart. _Goodness,_ himdoing that to his own hair did _wonders_ to his already perfect features. "U-Uhm…" She blushes from head to toe. To think, she had almost _walked out_ on this beautiful human being. "Y-Yes, I'm Wendy."

The guy blinks, mouthing the words a bit, taking it in. Then he smiles the most dazzling, beautiful, _perfect_ smile she's ever seen and she nearly falls out of her chair. "Oh, good." He reaches out for her hand. "I'm Mest Gryder, and I'll be your student tutor."

And now it's her turn to pause a moment, take in his words. She shakes his head, but all the while, she's thinking, _wait, did he just say Mest Gryder? As in…Mest **Gryder**?_

"I was afraid I would be late," he tells her, taking a seat next to her. "The student council meeting was taking longer than I thought."

Oh goodness, it _is_ Mest Gryder. As in the _president_ of her _school._ What is _he_ doing tutoring a girl like _her_?

"So." He smiles at her, pointing at her textbook. "What do you need help on?"

 _Everything. Life. How to not squirm around with the complexion of a tomato while around some cute guy. Basically everything._

"I-I'm struggling a bit with this section on derivatives." She flips to the section in her calculus textbook as she not-so-furtively takes a glance at the cute guy. Noticing, he kindly smiles back at her.

Goodness, this is going to be the longest two hours of her life.

* * *

"So, the derivative of tangent theta would just be the square of secant theta, yeah?" he says again.

She nods furiously, but has to juggle that information around in her head. So many tangents, thetas, cosines, sines, x and y's are swimming around in her head and she can't make heads or tails of any of it. Not to mention the fact that she's frustrated she could only solve less than half of the problems he had given her.

"I-I think so?" She looks again at the textbook - stares at it as hard as she can, as if just glaring at the words would magically imprint their meaning in her head.

"That's good." Gathering up his stuff, he pushes his chair out.

 _Oh no. Has it already been two hours?_

As if having read her mind, he says, "Well, it's time to go."

"O-Oh!" She jumps out of her seat, bowing a bit in gratitude. "Thank you so much! Sorry I wasn't that great of a student…"

He gives her an incredulous look. "You didn't do that bad, I've seen people do worse." Then ruffling her hair, he adds, "Don't be so hard on yourself."

She blushes again from head to toe. Thank goodness her hair is covering her bowed head right now, or he would know, firsthand, what the deepest shade of red looks like.

Still, Wendy forces herself to raise her head and look at his green, green eyes. There's a glint in those eyes, a hint of smile playing on his lips.

"Do you need my number?" he suddenly asks.

"W-What?"

"You know, in case you have some more questions." He shrugs nonchalantly, but his grin grows wider. His eyes still haven't left hers. "And if you need any help with any other subjects, I can always help you with that too." Then Mest Gryder - student council president, most handsome man ever, most eligible bachelor of Fairy Tail High - yes, Mest _effing_ Gryder, _winks_ at her.

She wasn't failing any of her classes. No, in fact she was pulling off A's in all her other courses. But now she's seriously contemplating failing those too, if only so she can spend time with him.

Wendy Marvell may be gradually failing her math class, one letter grade at a time, but her falling for this guy before her is anything _but_ gradual.


	7. Day 6: Sleepy Thoughts

She wakes up in a meadow of flowers, their petals brushing against her cheeks. She hears faint neighing in the distance, a cool breeze whispering in her ear.

Forcing herself up on her feet, she relishes the feeling of soft grass tickling her toes. The wind picks up; the faint neighing in the distance sounds in crescendo. She turns her head to the side, curious of the sound that tumbles to her ears.

…And she's not sure whether to be pleasantly or _confusedly_ surprised.

She chooses the latter.

"Mest…" She blinks. " What are you doing on a horse? Why are you dressed like…a cheap version of a prince from a fairy tale?"

Mest responds with a few confused blinks of his own. He laughs awkwardly. "What could you mean, fair maiden? I _am_ a prince, after all."

Wendy's still baffled by his attire, but she chooses to laugh it off. "Well, would my prince venture to share his stallion with me?"

She expects him to join her in her giggles, to offer a hand so that she may sit on the horse with him. Instead, his eyebrows furrow and he stares at her, sizes her up and down in a way that makes her squirm. After a moment or two, he finally announces, "My noble stallion should only be shared with a fair princess, kind maiden."

"But…" She gulps, suddenly unsure of herself. Insecure in the same way she had felt dating him their first year. "But…I thought _I_ was your princess."

He laughs; chortles, even. "You? Fair maiden, I am sorry, but I could never possibly announce my princess as a mere _child._ "

Wendy giggles a bit. _He's joking right? She hasn't been a_ child _in years. What could he be talking about-_

She looks down.

At tiny feet…connected to short legs attached to a stumpy torso which is joined by stubby arms ending in small hands. Incredulous, she reaches at her face, pinches her cheeks. She comes away with inches of baby fat.

Mest wasn't joking. Wendy was - _is_ \- a child. Again.

"Apologies, fair maiden." Mest bows politely. "But I must go scour the country for my princess."

He gallops away. In a moment or two, he is only a silhouette against the sun. She is left in the insecurities she thought she had shed years ago, in the anxieties she thought she had rid herself of so long ago.

* * *

"Wait, Mest! Don't go!" She thrashes around, kicking something next to her. Her eyes burst open to utter darkness; her ears are christened with a muffled groan.

"Wendy?" she hears beside her. "Are you alright?"

"I-I…" Suddenly everything clicks, and her heart rate begins its sigh in diminuendo. "I…had a bad dream."

The bed creaks; a hand reaches out to stroke her cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?" Mest whispers, sidling up against her.

Wendy licks her lips, debates whether or not to tell him. She doesn't want to dig up everything she had worked so hard to destroy. But he's looking at her so earnestly, so worriedly, she just has to give in. "I had a dream…and I was a child again. And…and…" Her voice breaks; she has to bite back her tears. She remembers when she was young, but no less in love with Mest than she is now. But she had been afraid: afraid that he would never love her because she was a child, afraid that he would never come to see her as an adult, afraid of the troubles their age gap would inevitably cause. She had been afraid of the negative stigma they would receive. The negative stigma on her, on _him._ And even when they had confirmed their feelings for each other, she had been clouded by these fears for so long that she could barely enjoy herself around the love of her life. And now she has to relive everything all over again. "And in that dream…you rejected me, because I was only a child," she finishes.

"Wendy…" She can feel the pregnant pause, his breath hitching in contemplation of what to say. "Wendy…" he repeated. "I know you had always been insecure about this age gap." He licks his lips in the darkness of the night. "But you know…I can't remember when exactly it was I had begun waiting, but at some point, I _knew_ that I was waiting for something, _someone._ I didn't know what it was at first, but one day I went to the guild and I saw you." Had Wendy been able to see him, she would have seen his eyes glaze over in his recollection, his cheeks turn pink with remembrance. "And it was like I saw you for the first time: your long hair fluttering in the breeze, your radiant smile upon your lips, your eyes twinkling in the sunlight, your faint blush when those eyes met mine. And at that moment, I knew - I just _knew_ \- that all that time I had been waiting for you. I can't say that I had always loved you, but one day, love suddenly fell down on me and Cupid told me, 'Look at her. She's the one.' " Had he been able to see her, he would have seen her eyes glaze over in hearing of his love, her cheeks turn pink from his adoration "Wendy…I love you."

And this time, she doesn't bother to conceal her tears. "Thank you so much, Mest." Even though it's dark and even though she knows he can't see her, she smiles at him.

He moves to take her hand. "Let's sleep now." Nuzzling their noses together, he murmurs, "And this time, you'll have a beautiful dream."

* * *

A/N: Ok, so this will actually be the end of it here. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out what to do for the seventh day in time for Mendy Week. Also, as a little side note, I'm not sure if I want to write for this ship anymore. And it's not because I stopped shipping them or anything, but more so because...idk. Like, I put a lot of effort and time that I don't necessarily have into this ship and while feedback is never necessary, it's very appreciated. But no matter how many times I put my work out there, I don't ever find much of a response on whether or not it's actually good. And while I realize it's wrong for me to seek validation from others, I also really don't want to put so much time and effort into something and consistently come out thinking that I'm not good enough. So I'm sorry if you did enjoy my writing, but I don't know whether or not I want to contribute to this ship anymore. I know that it's a small ship bordering on crack!ship territory, and I also can't ask for too much, but at the same time, I just...yeah. Anyway as an apology for not having anything for tomorrow, I've uploaded the last bonus day one up early on my tumblr. It's a short comic and I hope you'll find it funny. Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
